


America's Game

by mrs_d



Series: Dead Ends [3]
Category: due South
Genre: Baseball, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, First Time, Inspired by Real Events, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 05:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11684820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: “I heart BJs.”Ray nearly spit out his lemonade. “Youwhat?”





	America's Game

**Author's Note:**

> Cleaning out my drafts folder, found this old thing and tacked a smutty ending on it. Enjoy!

Ray was surprised when, a few months after they nearly drowned chasing pirates across the Great Lakes, Fraser asked him if he wanted to go to a Cubs game together. When Ray asked him why, he discovered that Fraser had lived in Chicago all this time and never been to a Cubs game — that had to be a crime or something. He made a mental note to check the criminal code next chance he got, and he dragged Fraser to Wrigley the following Saturday, where the Cubs were taking on the Blue Jays.

Ray was fully prepared to gloat about Canadians and their pathetic attempts to play America’s game. (The 1992-1993 World Series didn’t count.) It was the top of the third, and already 4-1 Chicago, so his plan should have been going great. The problem was that Fraser didn’t seem interested in cheering for Toronto, or even in watching the game at all. Instead, he was talking.

First about Greek people and the Olympics, then something about a bunch of dudes from Spart, and finally about Romans fighting lions in a museum. Ray was almost sort of listening, or politely nodding at least, until the blonde in the row ahead of him turned and shot Fraser an annoyed look before giving Ray a much happier glance. Ray winked, tilting his head toward Fraser like _Nothing I can do, guy’s a Mountie_. She grinned and faced the front again, and Ray just had to admire a woman who’d put the Cubs ahead of a Canadian so pretty that he’d seen women he knew to be lesbians start drooling.

So it was an understatement to say that Ray wasn’t really paying attention to when Fraser stopped talking — the low buzz of his voice just kind of faded, petering out over time, until there was nothing except the crowd’s hum and the crack of the bat. Ray was just thinking about tapping the blonde woman on the shoulder, seeing if he could get her another lemonade, or maybe even a beer, when Fraser’s voice interrupted him.

“I heart BJs.”

Ray nearly spit out his own lemonade and twisted in his seat to face Fraser, who was squinting up into the crowd.

“You _what?”_

“I heart BJs,” Fraser repeated. “Look.” He pointed to the nosebleeds above right field.

After a second of wondering if this would end with him making an indecent exposure arrest — trust Fraser to ruin his only Saturday off this month — Ray sighed, pulled his glasses out of his pocket, and looked.

The woman holding the sign was part of a small cluster of Jays fans, all decked out with face paint and hats; Ray wouldn’t have thought it was possible for Canadians to get that into something that wasn’t hockey or housework on ice.

“Huh,” said Ray. “That’s funny.”

He felt a sharp sense of relief that Fraser wasn’t actually talking about his choice of sexual activities. Not that Ray didn’t think Fraser deserved to get laid once in a while; it was just that Ray couldn’t picture Fraser turning off his Mountie setting long enough to get... Mounted.

Ray snickered at himself but covered it up by sipping his drink.

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why is the sign funny?”

Ray lowered his cup and stared at Fraser, but the politely curious Mountie face was out in full force, and Ray couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not.

“Wow, I guess we really aren’t talking about your sex life, huh,” he said at last.

Fraser coughed. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s, uh. It’s a sex thing.”

“Oh. The joke is of a sexual nature?”

Ray shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it’s natural.” _Despite what Stella said,_ he added silently. “By BJs, they mean Blue Jays, but BJ’s also short for blow jobs.”

Fraser looked blank.

“Really? You don’t know—” Ray sighed. “Oral sex,” he said quietly. “Fellatio.”

“Oh.” Fraser blushed. “I see.”

“Yeah,” Ray said quickly. “So the sign’s funny. I guess. Because most guys, uh, heart that.”

“Ah.” Fraser sipped his lemonade. “And you?”

“You really want to talk about this here? Now?” Ray shook his head. “I heart them. What guy wouldn’t?”

Fraser shifted in his seat, still blushing hard. “Indeed.”

“What, you don’t?”

Fraser coughed. “Well, I— that is to say that I... You know, Ray, the Inuit—”

Ray smiled, more in relief than anything else. “It’s okay, Fraser, you can spare me the Inuit story. I don’t get any BJs these days, either.”

Fraser froze, licked his lips, then nodded. “Oh.”

Ray patted Fraser’s knee reassuringly, then took off his glasses and folded the arms with his chin before tucking them into his shirt collar.

Fraser blinked at him stupidly for a moment, then coughed again. “Don’t you think you ought to leave your glasses on, Ray?”

It was his normal — which is to say, his  _I’m-nagging-you-Ray_ — voice, so it was only too easy to let the sex talk drop. He gave him a normal — _I’m-ignoring-your-nagging-Fraser_ — response: “Nah.”

“But can’t you see the game better?”

The blonde woman glanced back suddenly, making it look like she was looking at something behind him; Ray smiled when she caught his eyes on hers and blushed.

“I don’t need the details to watch the game, Frase,” Ray murmured.

“Oh. I see.”

Ray faintly registered Fraser’s wounded tone, but then the crack of a bat drew his attention. The Jays batter had hit a hard, fast grounder that was kicking up a lot of dust. Ray winced as the Cubs’ third baseman and the shortstop got their signals mixed; they did the dance of _You got it? Get it! No, I got it!_ for the half-second it took for the ball to become the left fielder’s problem. By the time it was safely back in the catcher’s mitt, the Jays had made it 4-3. 

Ray groaned. “Did you see that? Pathetic.”

“Indeed.”

Ray glanced at him, then did a double take. Fraser was sitting like he’d been turned into stone. The look was familiar, and Ray felt a sharp stab of annoyance. He rolled his eyes.

“So how’d I piss you off this time?”

“I’m fine,” Fraser replied, keeping his eyes on the field.

“You think I don’t know a Mountie sulk when I see one?”

Fraser turned to him, but his eyes settled over Ray’s shoulder. “I’ll thank _you_ to keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Hey, no problem,” Ray retorted. “You want me to shut up, I’ll shut up.”

“Ray—”

“Watch the game, Fraser.”

Fraser fell silent. Ray raised his cup to his lips again and noticed his hand was trembling slightly. He cursed softly; damn Mountie sure knew how to boil his cabbage.

They sat through the rest of the inning in silence, and when it ended, Ray took a deep breath and tapped the blonde woman on the shoulder.

She turned and gave him a blinding smile that nearly made Ray forget his brilliant strategy. “Hi,” she said, a question in her voice.

“Hi,” Ray replied. “Do you— um. Did you see that grounder?”

He winced internally when she blinked, but then her eyes lit up. “Yeah, shortstop really dropped the ball. Metaphorically speaking.”

“Right, right, yeah. Because he’d have to catch the ball first to drop it.”

Fraser said something under his breath. The woman’s eyes drifted to him uncertainly, and Ray felt his blood pressure kick up a notch.

“Do you want another lemonade?” he asked quickly.

Her gaze snapped back to Ray, but she still looked hesitant. “Uh, sure,” she replied, and she laid her hand on the forearm of the brunette beside her as she stood. “Be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” the other woman replied.

Ray got to his feet and nudged at Fraser. “Move it, Frase, you’re blocking the aisle.”

Fraser gave him the _I hate Americans_ look he usually saved for people who refused to hold the door, but he slid his legs to the side to let Ray pass. Ray heard him start talking a second later; he wondered if he was hitting on the brunette, but he decided he didn’t care enough to turn back.

In line at the concession, the blonde woman introduced herself as Mandy and told Ray she’d been coming to Cubs games since she was six.

“My dad used to take me,” she said after Ray had paid for their drinks. “And when Steph and I got together, it started to be our thing. The last Saturday of every month, we’re here.”

“Oh,” Ray said, taken aback. He blinked a few times, then managed to smile again. “That’s... nice, that— that’s real nice. For you, I mean. And her. And you and her. And you. And her, together. Together.”

Mandy was nodding, apparently oblivious to the way that Ray was dying of embarrassment. She dug her wallet out of her purse. “How much do I owe you?”

“No, no, no,” Ray insisted. “I said I’d get you a lemonade, I got you a lemonade. Does your, uh, girlfriend want anything? Because I can get back in line.”

Mandy gave him that blinding smile again. “No, that’s okay. You’re sweet for asking, though. Your partner’s lucky to have you.”

Ray nodded — he’d often thought the same thing — and then Mandy’s words sunk in, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Wait, what? My who now?”

Mandy blinked back at him. “The pretty guy you’re—” She winced. “Oh, shoot, I’m sorry, I— oh, boy.”

“He’s Canadian,” Ray said suddenly without knowing why.

Mandy smiled uncertainly. “That’s... nice?”

“He’s a Mountie,” Ray tried to explain. “A cop. Like me. We’re partners.”

“Oh. Oh, I see,” Mandy said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Wait,” Ray said again. He blinked, and a lot of things suddenly got clear in his head. He had that feeling that usually came when the pieces of a case clicked together to make a full picture. He knew exactly what he had to do.

“I gotta go,” he said. “Thanks.”

He left Mandy with a baffled look on her face and hurried back to his seat. He didn’t squeeze past Fraser, though; instead he grabbed Fraser’s hand and pulled.

“Ray, what on earth—?”

“Come on, we gotta go,” Ray told him.

“But there are still two innings left to play.”

“You can watch the highlights reel later, Fraser, come on.”

Fraser got to his feet and said “Excuse me” about fifty times until he was at Ray’s side and they were heading for the underground parking.

“Did something happen?” Fraser asked.

“You’re damn right something happened,” Ray muttered. “Now where the hell did I park?”

Fraser pointed, and sure enough, there was the car. They climbed in, and Ray floored it, getting out to the street as fast as possible. Only after a minute of driving did he realize Fraser was chanting his name.

“What?”

“I asked if you should put the red light on your dash.”

It took Ray another second to realize that Fraser thought they were fighting crime. “No, no, this isn’t police work,” Ray explained. “This is personal.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Yeah, you see, that’s what I’m talking about,” Ray said, suddenly pissed. “You, seeing stuff and not saying anything.”

“I don’t—”

“Fraser, don’t play dumb right now,” Ray snapped. He put on the turn signal and pulled into the underground parking lot for his apartment building. “There’s a thing happening, isn’t there? This whole ball game idea, this was a thing to you, wasn’t it?”

“Ray, what—?”

But Ray was on a roll now. He killed the engine and twisted in his seat to look Fraser in the eye. “I like you, Fraser,” he said simply. “We’re good friends. Buddies. Partners.”

“Agreed.”

“And it’s not buddies to suggest we go to a ball game as a date and not tell me.”

There. He’d said it, and the ball was in Fraser’s court now. Or his mitt, or whatever. He held his breath, waiting for Fraser to make a move. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d open the car door and walk away, and maybe he’d punch Ray again first. Or maybe he’d start talking about the Inuit again, and talk until even Ray could put two and two together and realize that Fraser wasn’t interested. Or maybe—

“I’m sorry, Ray,” Fraser said finally, and Ray nodded. Rejection. He could handle that.

“Okay,” he replied, and he reached for the door handle.

But Fraser’s hand on his wrist stopped him, and the grip was tight, tight like Fraser was pulling him up out of the water again. Ray turned, and Fraser was right there, his big grey eyes intent on Ray’s face, on Ray’s mouth. Ray licked his lips without meaning too, and the atmosphere inside the car changed, thickened.

“I’m sorry,” Fraser said again. “I should have told you.”

“Well, I probably should have noticed a lot sooner,” Ray admitted. “I mean, you were talking about blow jobs, for crying out loud.”

Fraser blushed and looked down, his mouth twisting in a crooked smile. “Not terribly subtle, I suppose.”

“No,” Ray agreed. He shifted a little in his seat, used Fraser’s grip on his arm to reel him in, because now that he was thinking about it, Fraser’s mouth was all he wanted, everywhere. He gave in to temptation, pressed their lips together in a bruising kiss, and Fraser inhaled sharply through his nose before he opened his mouth, slipped his tongue out.

Of course, Ray thought. Guy has to taste everything, after all.

Ray tasted him right back, brushing his tongue along the edge of Fraser’s, and Fraser made a small, desperate sound before he slid his hands up, until he was holding Ray’s face, kissing him thoroughly, pinning him against the window of the car. From a distance, Ray wondered if it was fogging up, like in that movie about the boat that sunk — it was a fitting reference, given everything that he and Fraser had been through lately — but he wasn’t going to check, he didn’t want to break away, even for a second.

“God, Ray,” Fraser murmured into his mouth. “God, I want— I need—”

“I know, Fraser,” Ray replied blurrily. “I know.”

And then Fraser’s fingers were wrestling with the fly of his jeans, and he was kissing Ray’s jaw and neck, ducking lower and lower until finally his mouth was in Ray’s lap, his tongue wetting the slit in Ray’s boxers.

Ray gasped, his eyes falling closed. Fraser’s mouth was like an act of God, and it had been so long since anyone did anything like this. Stella hated it— _don’t think about Stella,_ he told himself sternly, and he buried his fingers in Fraser’s short hair, breathing in the woodsy smell of him. He felt his thighs shake, his toes curling slightly inside his boots.

“Oh, God, Frase,” he managed. “Frase, Fraser, Fraser, I’m— you gotta, I’m gonna—”

Fraser didn’t let up for a second, and a moment later, the pleasure spiked, and Ray shuddered as he came, one hard wave after another until he was twitching in his seat. Fraser licked him clean, did up his pants again, and sat up. He leaned in tentatively for another kiss, and Ray grabbed him — if he was going to put his mouth there, Ray could at least kiss him for it. Though, with all the other places that Fraser put his mouth— well, that was another problem for another day.

“Return the favour?” Ray asked, and Fraser nodded breathlessly.

Ray pried the zipper of those too-tight jeans down, and got hold of Fraser’s dick. It was long and beautiful, uncut and silky-hot to the touch. Ray licked his palm and squeezed, watching Fraser react. He wondered if this was the first time someone touched him since that woman he was with before Vecchio left— _no, don’t think about Vecchio either,_ Ray practically shouted at himself. To shut his brain up he leaned forward, got his mouth around Fraser’s cock — he hadn’t done this since before the academy, but blow jobs were like bicycles; you never really forgot.

Fraser came quickly with a quiet moan, muffled like he was trying to keep it in, and as Ray swallowed the salty fluid, all he could think about was what sounds Fraser would make if they were somewhere more private, somewhere they didn’t have to hold back. The image was almost enough to get him hard again.

He nursed Fraser through the aftershocks, then got his clothes put to rights. Ray was going to suggest going upstairs, but Fraser nudged his chin up and kissed him once again, long and languid, completely fucked out. He hummed into Ray’s mouth finally and pulled away.

“I heart BJs,” he mumbled, and Ray laughed harder than he had in years.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://mrsdawnaway.tumblr.com)!


End file.
